i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me
by stolethekey
Summary: She's quiet, staring into his eyes, drinking them in for the last time, and it really, really, hits him all at once— He's leaving. Pepper, Morgan, Peter—he's leaving. When that was the one thing he had sworn never to do. "Tony," Pepper says softly, and he clings onto her voice like it's the scrap of hope he'd built in that cave, a million years ago. "Look at me."


**I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me**

Everything is quiet after the snap.

The air is full of bated breath, the people around him all staring at the dust particles floating through the air, hardly believing the sight in front of them.

Tony can feel his brain starting to shut down, but fortunately—or unfortunately—his thoughts are still moving well enough for him to register the faces in front of him.

Rhodey, cupping his face gently, his eyes brimming with love and affection. He doesn't say anything, but Tony hears him loudly and clearly anyway.

Peter, and maybe it's a good thing his tear ducts have stopped working, because as soon as the first broken "Mr. Stark?" comes out he feels what's left of his heart rip in two.

"We won," Peter says frantically, hands moving over Tony's body. "We won, you did it—"

_I know,_ he thinks dimly, the image in front of his eyes starting to swim. _Why would I have done it if we weren't going to win?_

The blurry figure in front of him moves, stumbling slightly, and as the blue and gold registers in his mind his vision clears immediately.

Pepper. Oh, God, Pepper. Her hand finds his heart and his hand, seemingly of its own accord, finds hers.

"Hey, Pep," he manages to mumble, the muscles in his jaw scrambling together for one last hurrah.

_I worked so hard for my last words to be 'I am Iron Man.' That would've been so cool. But I suppose, for you—_

She's quiet, staring into his eyes, drinking them in for the last time, and it really, really, hits him all at once—

He's leaving. Pepper, Morgan, Peter—he's leaving. When that was the one thing he had sworn never to do.

"Tony," Pepper says softly, and he clings onto her voice like it's the scrap of hope he'd built in that cave, a million years ago. "Look at me."

He does, and as his head turns a sense of terrible finality settles in his gut.

He is not going to move again.

The same realization has entered Pepper's eyes, and God, he is the least lucky and most lucky person at the same time.

"We're gonna be okay," she whispers, and a curious sense of peace starts creeping into his mind.

Part of him knows it's just his body shutting down, but there's also a part of him that believes her, wholeheartedly.

She's going to be okay.

Morgan, Peter, Rhodey, Happy, they're all going to be okay.

The universe is going to be okay. Even if he's not there to make sure it is.

That's what he wanted. That was his goal.

Everything else was just icing on the cake, even if it came too early.

"You can rest, now," she murmurs, her words incredibly steady for the tears welling up in her eyes. They don't fall, and he knows she is keeping them at bay for his sake.

Staying strong, for him. She always has.

It takes everything he has, but he manages to move a finger, tracing her hand ever so lightly.

She makes him stronger, too. Always has.

_I didn't get a chance to tell you, I saw my dad—_

_I wish I could tell you—_

_I wish we had more time._

A million words swelling inside of him, clamoring to come out, only—he knows—to die with him.

It's okay, he realizes. It's okay. Because he can see in her eyes that she knows, that she understands. Of course she does.

He's never gotten everything he's wanted, anyway.

And this—this is close enough.

Everything he's ever wanted—it's here. It's here.

He just won't be.

His vision is starting to fade, but Pepper's eyes, gentle and determined, are still holding his gaze, and he knows instinctively that they will be the last things he sees.

Merchant of death, maybe. But only of his own.

All the life he's brought back? He's pretty satisfied with that.

Pretty satisfied with the one he's managed to live, too, even if it was a little too short, the ending a little too abrupt.

His vision is going black, but the blue of her eyes is still blazing, seemingly bypassing his retinas and just flaring to life directly in his brain. He loves that shade of blue. He's going to treasure that shade of blue forever.

He wonders, vaguely, as the darkness drowns it out, if she can still pick up on the last thing he's trying to tell her.

_When I drift off, I will dream about you._

_It's always you._

There is a brilliant flash of his favorite blue, and then everything goes dark.

The garage feels emptier at night.

She isn't in here too often—most days, the sheer amount of _him_ everywhere is too much to bear—but sometimes, his presence is exactly what she needs.

Pepper walks along the tables lined up against the wall, her hand trailing lightly along the tools and gadgets still scattered across the tabletops, waiting to be used by someone who will never return.

She stops at the end of the table, next to a silent and still Dum-E, and gazes at the blue and gold helmet staring back at her.

_Rescue_, he'd said. _Just in case._

She hasn't touched it since she'd taken it off, weeks ago, her tears splattering on the table beneath it.

The metal is as cool and smooth as she remembers, and as she reaches under the helmet she wonders whether Tony would've hit Mark 100 if—well, if—

There is a gentle whirring as the helmet comes to life, and she takes a deep breath a familiar soft, blue light washes over her body.

"Hi, Tony." Her voice is low and raspy, but she makes no effort to clear her throat. "I don't know if you can hear this, or see this, but if anyone's cracked the code on talking to dead people, it's you. Sam keeps telling me to talk to you, anyway—he says it can help."

"It's funny, you know—I can't ever forget that you're gone, but sometimes it feels like my body does. I reach out for your hand, instinctively, sometimes, like my hand just expects yours to be there. "

She gives a slight laugh, the choked sound echoing throughout the garage, and then shakes her head. "I hope you found Nat, by the way. Tell her I say hi, and we all miss her. We're never going to forget her, either."

The helmet doesn't respond, but she keeps going anyway.

"If you could see Morgan—God, she's like—she is your legacy, living and walking and occasionally giving me snark. Peter said he'd tutor her if she ever needs it, but—well, you know, she has our brains. I don't think she's ever gonna need it. It's nice of him to be there, though. It's like she has an older brother."

She sighs. "He's a good kid. I wish you got more time with him."

"I wish you got more time with all of us."

The blue glow of the light seems a little softer.

"I know you didn't want to leave us, but I meant what I said—we're gonna be okay. We miss you, but we're gonna be okay. Truly. I'm not upset about it, either—I think I always knew. I knew who I was working for. I know who I fell in love with. It wouldn't be you if you hadn't done it."

"I mean, currently, it's a little hard. We're taking it day-by-day. Some days are better than others—you know how that goes. Everyone's been so great—offering to help around the house, bringing us food—I have enough leftovers to last us for the rest of the year. We've really found quite a family the past fifteen years, haven't we?"

She smiles sadly, her gaze lingering on the shadow of Dum-E in the corner.

"Oh, remember Harley? He came to your funeral. It was nice to meet him—God, he's so grown up, now. But he still remembers you, still says you were the best thing to ever happen to him. That's how the world is going to remember you."

"I know you never got to live out the rest of your life, and that's always going to eat at you, but—in a way, you kind of are. You live on inside each and every life you've touched. And we're all better for it."

She swipes her thumb across the mask, wiping away the tears sliding across the metal.

"Anyway, it's getting late, and I should get to bed. I have kind of an early day tomorrow. Not that it matters—I can never really sleep, anymore. I guess I know how you felt all those years."

She can almost see his face, an annoyingly superior smirk toying at the corners of his mouth, and she snorts. "Not that I regret being hard on you—I at least _try_ to fall asleep."

She slips her hand inside the helmet. "If, and when, I do, I promise I'll dream about you."

Her finger finds the switch, the metal cold and hard against her skin.

"It's always you."

She's passing by Morgan's door when she hears a small voice say, "Mom?"

Pepper cracks open the door with a small, gentle smile, eyes landing on the small figure in the middle of the bed. "You should be asleep, baby."

Morgan looks up at her, eyes wide and innocent. "Sorry."

Sometimes, when she looks into those eyes, she can hear a whisper of his voice.

"Oh, it's okay. I can't fall asleep either." She sits next to the bed, tucking the blanket underneath her daughter's chin. "Is it because you miss Daddy? He says he loves you. I can hear it, even now."

"I know," Morgan shrugs, her hair falling lightly across the pillowcase. "He loves you too. Even though Daddy said you never wear the things he buys you."

Pepper chokes out a small laugh. "The things he bought me were never the important things, honey. The important things were the things he made, the things he was. I wear those every day. And so do you."

"Even still?"

"Yeah," she says softly. "His pride, his intelligence, his unwavering determination to help people—it all lives on. In everyone, but in us especially."

"I don't know what that means."

She chuckles, brushing a gentle hand over her daughter's forehead. "You will. I promise."

Pepper stays in the room until Morgan's eyes have closed, her chest rising and falling steadily, and then slips quietly through the door.

As she walks down the hallway, her feet tracing the path she'd danced down so many times, the love of her life in her arms, she knows—despite everything, she is still lucky.

Lucky to have had the time she did with the man she loves, and lucky that the universe has given her what she has.

The universe—millions of families, millions of lives, millions of stories. All here, because of one man.

All proof, everlasting, that Tony Stark had a heart.


End file.
